


2-ft Squared (Between Them)

by Angela



Category: Banana Fish
Genre: Canon Compliant, M/M, story-in-drabble
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-23
Updated: 2018-05-23
Packaged: 2019-05-10 10:25:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14735198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angela/pseuds/Angela
Summary: Only a nightstand - about 2'x2' - separates Ash's and Eiji's beds, but so much more than just physical space lies between them.This is a collection of drabbles about the things that bring these boys together as well as the things that keep them apart.





	2-ft Squared (Between Them)

**Author's Note:**

> On page nine of volume thirteen of _Banana Fish_ , Yoshida drew us a clear, aerial view of the boys' bedroom in the fancy apartment. I looked at that tiny nightstand between the beds and wondered how it came to be that, in that huge penthouse, these guys ended up sharing a room but not a bed. The intimacy of a shared space can be intense, and the space between being lovers and not (in this case, about two feet) can be vast. 
> 
> Because I love drabbles, I thought I'd explore these ideas in a collection of 100-word chunks. I hope you like them.

2-ft Squared  
(Between Them)

Between their beds, the nightstand holds everything. A dim lamp with a built-in flip clock (the alarm neither one uses) sits in the center; cluttered around and below is more:

A glass of water, refilled each night  
A pile of half-finished novels, spilling onto the floor  
Aspirin, for headaches (and when Ash wakes, too stubborn to properly tend to his own wounds)  
Glasses for reading (“Like an old man,” Eiji teases) and the velveteen sleeve where they live  
The newest issue of _Shounen Sunday_ (two weeks late in America)  
A Smith  & Wesson model 19 combat magnum (just in case)

***

“Here’s where we’ll sleep.” Ash keeps his words neutral, letting Eiji interpret the sleeping arrangements as he likes. 

“You will want to be nearest the windows,” Eiji says, choosing a bed – or just the side of one? – for Ash.

Ash already decided he’ll do whatever Eiji wants. No question. Anything.

Eiji touches a pillow, the satin coverlet – both on the widow-side bed. Claiming it?

Ash’s mouth goes dry.

Then Eiji puts his own knapsack on the other bed, stretches out and comments on the firmness of the mattress. Disappointment swells inside Ash’s nervous body.

It almost swallows his relief. Almost.

***

“It’s in the bedroom.” Ash beckons.

Max passes two rumpled beds. _They share this room._ There are other bedrooms – three in all, no need to share.

 _Unless?_ Max blushes.

 _Then why separate beds?_ The other rooms have king-sized beds, plenty of room for two.

Ash takes a box from a shelf in the closet; his t-shirt tightens over his shoulder-blades and pulls up as he reaches, already too small on a growing boy. A boy with deep, invisible scars.

_Maybe this is as close as he can get._

“Hey, Pops!” Ash holds the paperwork, impatient. “What’s with the fucking face?”

***

Eiji… bustles. 

It’s the only word that suits, and Ash turns it over, bemused, as he sprawls across his bed. Eiji zips around like a honeybee, tucking sheets, smoothing his bedspread. 

“Damn, look at those hospital corners,” Ash drawls.

Eiji looks up from the blanket he’s folding, his expression sharp and wary.

“You can fluff _my_ pillows.” Ash smirks.

Eiji glowers.

“What?” Ash asks, innocent as he rolls himself up in a tangle of covers. He tries to hide a laugh. “You’ll make a good wife one day.”

He’s still laughing when the pillow smacks him square in the face.

***

Eiji is wound too tightly for sleep. He’s too hot, even with the air conditioner blasting, and lonely because Ash fell asleep hours ago. The faint glow of the clock is the only light in the room – Ash likes black-out-curtain darkness – and Eiji finds himself staring at the numbers, watching 2:47 flip to 2:48 and then 2:49.

Ash mumbles softly in his sleep, and a wave of longing crashes through Eiji. He pushes up on one elbow, peering through the darkness. Ash’s golden hair is close enough to touch, if Eiji only had the nerve to reach out.

He doesn’t.

***

Ash can’t quite define it.

He’s had a lot of sex. With men, with boys, even girls. Some willingly; most not. Either way, he knows sex. And this isn’t it.

He watches Eiji as he putters around the room, a toothbrush in his mouth as he gets ready for bed. His old-fashioned striped pajamas, his fluffed-up hair, half-dry from the shower. He looks ridiculous, and Ash has never loved him more. 

Love.

He feels possessive. Giddy. Happy in a manic, can’t-wait-to-get-home-to-him way. Cheesy and silly and safe. Ash wants Eiji’s attention. Wants to make the grand gestures.

He wants forever.

***

“I am happy,” Eiji says softly across his pillow, “that you no longer send me away.”

Ash is asleep, out as soon as his head hit the pillow. It’s the only reason Eiji can say such things. 

“You think I might die, here by your side. But if you went away,” Eiji falters on the words. “If you went away, I would die in a different way. A way that hurts much more.”

Ash stirs. A muscled arm snakes from beneath his covers, reaching across the gap between their beds. Long fingers entwine with Eiji’s. Breath catches.

“Me, too.”

***

“Do you believe that everyone has one person meant just for them?”

Shunichi turns from the gorgeous view out the window, startled. Eiji sits on Ash’s bed, his knees pulled tight to his chest. The newly-changed bandage on his arm is stark, glaring. He looks small.

Ash has been gone two days.

“No.” Shunichi doesn’t know which answer would be best for Eiji to hear, so he resorts to the truth. “I think a person can love any number of people during their lives.” He scratches his head. “I’ve loved three already, myself.”

Eiji is clearly unsatisfied with the answer.

***

A two-foot square separates them. A tiny island of wood between Eiji’s sleeping face and his own. Stretched from headboard down, it becomes an eighteen-hundred-inch plane – barely space for two bodies pressed close; a gulf of epic proportions, just the same.

Ash knows he could navigate the distance, if he chose to. He knows Eiji would welcome him, all soft touches and warmth. He would mean it to be beautiful, to change everything and nothing at once.

But Ash knows better than Eiji about… these things. And as much as he aches to hold him, he can’t.

He just _can’t._

***  
_end._


End file.
